


Those parts, which maids keep unespy'd

by Musyc



Category: Kushiel's Legacy - Jacqueline Carey
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Relationship, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 13:23:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13054848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Musyc/pseuds/Musyc
Summary: There are few things Phedre has never done. There's one she's never done with Joscelin.





	Those parts, which maids keep unespy'd

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hikaru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hikaru/gifts).



Joscelin has never been the sort of man who is fond of the things that I find arousing - pain, submission, surrender - but he has learned to understand that I have a need for these occasional debasements. Over the years of our relationship, he has accepted my desires and acknowledged that I will seek them out, though he has never understood them fully. It is a difficult thing, to be an anguisette, but betimes I thought Joscelin long had the more difficult role in life. He is an anguisette's consort, and I thought he would never be able to give me that which so many others have.

But as I say, that is what I _thought_.

One cold night in midwinter, I stood at the window of our chambers and watched the snow drifting on the wind. Large, fluffy flakes, each one looked like joie made solid. I pictured myself standing in the snow, those insubstantial crystals cupped in my palms like a handful of that shimmering cordial, and I smiled at the image. 

I felt strong arms wrap around my waist and I half-turned, my smile shifting to the man who held me in his embrace. "Hello," I said, settling my hand on his forearm.

He returned my smile but didn't speak. He dipped his head, his lips seeking beneath my ear to the delicate hollow under my jaw. I tilted my head, allowing him access to my throat and the spot of thin, sensitive skin where my pulse already ran like a courier's horse. "Ah, Joscelin," I murmured. I let my eyes drift shut to better focus my attentions on the feel of his mouth exploring my flesh. On occasion, it surprised me how well my body responded to him despite the lack of my more unusual arousements. At times, it seemed he could string me taut as a bow with only a look, much less a touch.

Joscelin skimmed kisses down my neck to my nape where the tip of my marque peeked over my gown. I shivered when I felt the heat of his breath on the ink-marked skin. Though I had felt blades and whips in my lifetime, nothing seemed to cut straight through me like Joscelin's kiss.

I started to turn, to reach for him, but he grabbed my wrists and pinned my hands to the chilled window glass. Pressed full against me, he lifted his head and whispered to the curve of my ear. "Do not move."

Of all the commands given me over the years, I do not believe I have ever answered one more quickly. I kept my arms locked and my frame still as though I alone held all of Terre d'Ange in place. I was accustomed to holding positions far more demanding than this one and it was no strain to my body, but the fact that it was Joscelin who had given the order had my legs wanting to tremble.

Joscelin stood behind me, his hands on my waist. Slowly, his fingers slipped up my ribs until his hands were scarcely a feather's width from my breasts. His thumbs moved against the outer curves. I focused on his faint reflection in the window, watching the shift of his face. His lips curled in a smile. I wanted to call it a trick of light, because I had never seen such a brazen grin on him.

"Phedre," he said as his hands lifted from my ribs to settle on the neckline of my gown, "how fond are you of this dress?"

The gown was older, not one of my favorites. I had pulled it on after my bath for the sole reason that it was at the top of the mending basket and close to hand. Beneath it, I was naked, and in my anticipation, nothing pleased me more than to tell him, "Not even slightly."

"Good." His fingers locked in the fabric, and with one mighty pull, he tore apart the seams. 

I am not ashamed to say that I moaned with the sudden desire spiking through me. Joscelin's power, his strength honed through decades of practice, could arouse me in the simplest ways - breaking a stallion, chopping wood, lifting stone to repair a wall - but this was far beyond that. Had I not been ordered to remain in place, I think I might have dropped to my knees that second and begged him to take me.

He knew me well. 

He took my arms from the window, one by one, to remove the sleeves of the ruined gown, then set my hands back in place. He pulled the rest of the fabric away from my body and kicked it all aside, humming to himself. It took me a moment to place the song and when I did, I blushed, heat spreading down my skin. It was one of the bawdier tunes sung in taverns regarding my exploits. The final verse spoke of Joscelin and of the 'great Cassiline sword' that had tamed an anguisette. 

"They don't do you justice," he said. Arms crossed, he leaned one hip against the windowsill and smiled at me. "The songs. None of them describe you properly."

"No one knows me as you do," I said. There was a damning quaver in my voice already and it made Joscelin's smile turn even more wicked.

"You're right there," he said. "I do know you." He reached out and brushed his thumb over my stiffened nipple, forcing a groan of need from me. "Bend over the bed, Phedre."

It was fortunate his words implied movement, because I do not think I could have prevented my knees from buckling at that command. I near-leapt to the bed and sank gracefully on to it, arms stretched out to either side, cheek to the coverlet.

Joscelin clicked his tongue. "No, no," he said. "Not like that. Hands here." He took one of my wrists and guided my hand down to rest on my buttock, fingers just touching the cleft. I immediately completed the pose, wondering if he intended for me to play the nervous virgin guarding her body.

I should have expected more from my fiendishly clever Cassiline.

"Very good," Joscelin said. "Now show me."

My eyes widened and for a moment I couldn't move. This was entirely new, from him. I had put myself on display for patrons before, but never for Joscelin, and the thought that he would have such an intimate view of my body had my mind reeling.

He cleared his throat in impatience and I hurried to obey. I gripped my buttocks and tugged them apart, exposing the tight rosebud of my nether orifice to him. I had no shame in my body, only some embarassment over the position, but I am as I am, and I felt my pearl of Naamah throbbing with arousal despite it.

Behind me, I heard the jingle of buckles as Joscelin stripped. "Wider, Phedre," he said. "Hold yourself wide. And up on your toes, too. Show me everything."

I pressed my shoulders into the bed and lifted my hips, my fingers digging into the curves of my buttocks to pull them as wide as possible. I could smell my own desire, musk scenting the air as my body responded to the humiliation of the posture. 

"I was in the marketplace a fortnight ago," Joscelin said. "Looking for a gift for you, but everything I saw was something similar to a gift I've already given you. Flowers, books, jewels. Then I thought, well. If it can't be something I've never given you, perhaps it could be something you have never given me."

 _Ah, Elua_ , I prayed, turning my face into the coverlet to hide my expression from Joscelin. Many patrons had taken me in many ways, but this was one Joscelin had never explored, though a thousand times I had wished he would. The thought of it had me halfway to completion and he had barely touched me at all.

"I'm given to understand there is a wide variety of oils and salves that can … ease the way, as it were," Joscelin said. "The man who sold me this one said it is the very best. And he's Hellene, so he would know." The clink of a glass stopper against a phial had me shuddering. 

The cold glass touched my skin and I yelped into the coverlet, unreasonably glad it muffled the sound. Joscelin occasionally faltered when my cries of pleasure sounded too close to pain for his tastes and I wanted nothing, absolutely nothing, to halt him now.

Joscelin dripped the oil along my cleft, guiding it to the puckered orifice. The scent of the sea filled the air, salt and musk and ocean storms, and Joscelin made a soft noise of surprise. "That's rather nice, isn't it?" he asked me. I couldn't form words to respond, only nodded ferociously against the bed.

When he stood behind me, I lifted my hips even further, straining up on my toes, my calves and thighs trembling from the effort. Joscelin laid his phallus along my cleft and thrust slowly, coating his own skin with the oil on my body. His tip passed over me, but didn't enter, and I bit down on the coverlet in desperate want. 

He knew me well enough to tease me, to stroke over and over without penetrating me, until I finally snapped up my head and sobbed. "Joscelin, _please_!"

He laughed, the sound nearly a greater torment than his slow movements, then the blunt tip pressed against my orifice. I squeezed my eyes closed, bracing for it, and in one thrust, he filled me.

Were I any other woman, that would have been an unbearable agony, but I am an anguisette, and it was an agony of pleasure. The stretch of my body around his shaft, the burn as my muscles strained against him - I dropped my head and screamed. Joscelin froze and I gasped for him to continue. "More," I begged, pushing back as if I could take him further, though he was in me to the hilt. "Joscelin, please. More!"

He pushed my hands away and gripped my hips, easing out and driving in. I took the coverlet in my fists, my body rocking with every thrust. I lifted my head to pant and moan for his encouragement; I dropped my head to swear the vilest profanities into the coverlet. My entire being seemed to narrow to the feel of Joscelin slamming into me, and then.

Elua, _then_.

He reached beneath me, fingers seeking out my pearl of Naamah. He circled it, stroked it in time with his thrusts. I tensed, as taut as a lyre's string, and when he strummed me one more time, I sang for him. I fell apart once, then again, and again, until I collapsed.

When Joscelin spent a few moments later, his harsh shout throbbed in my ears even louder than my pulse. He fell over me, braced on one elbow, sweat from his forehead spattering my marque. I twisted enough to wrap my arm around his, my head settled on his limp hand. "Jos--" I tried, my voice broken from my cries of pleasure. "Ah, Joscelin."

His response was just as weak. "Phedre. That.... I have never--"

"I know, love. I know." I kissed his fingers, the ocean scent of the oil still clinging to his skin, and closed my eyes, drifting on a sea of satiated desire.


End file.
